


Beat of the Music

by swanqueenfic13



Series: Aca-Song Fics [16]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: AU, Based on a song, Beat of the Music, F/F, Pre-Canon, Song Lyrics, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8212921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanqueenfic13/pseuds/swanqueenfic13
Summary: For my lovely tumblr anon who really wanted to see a pre-PP fic based on the Brett Eldridge song "Beat of the Music" (as always, 10/10 recommend).





	

Beca hadn’t wanted to come to Georgia yet. She’d been planning on flying down the day of her move-in and seeing as little of her dad as possible. Despite him essentially gifting her a free college education, she couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same state as him and the step-monster. So, when Beca’s mom announced that Beca was going to spend a week in Georgia before move-in, Beca was so mad she almost cried.

“Mom! Why are you trying to ruin my life?!” Beca shrieked angrily. Beca’s mother just raised one eyebrow, having learned long ago to let her teenager’s temper tantrums ride out. “I don’t wanna spend any time with that fucking witch he married. She’s a tramp, and a ditz, and I hate her. And I don’t wanna go and you can’t make me!” Beca stomped her foot, immediately feeling like a three year old, but too angry to really care.

“Flights are twice as expensive down to Georgia during college move-in week. You already have three extra bags, which costs a lot. Your dad’s taken care of tuition, so I agreed to take care of airfare getting you down there. I’m making the financially responsible choice, and your father has agreed to house you for that week. You’re going, or I take back your mixing equipment.” Her mother twinged as she made the threat; it was a low blow and she knew it. 

Beca’s mixing board had become her salvation after the divorce. When her parents were arguing, forgetting that the walls were thin and little ears heard every word, Beca would blast her music as loud as she could in her cheap headphones, often blowing out the speakers. For Christmas that year, her grandmother had gotten her a decent pair of sound-cancelling headphones and her mother got her a music board to make her own music.

“You wouldn’t.” Beca narrows her eyes, but she turns the statement into a question. 

“Try me,” her mother challenges. And when both women stand, shoulders squared, jaws clenched and chins up, hands on their hips and eyes narrowed, the family resemblance became clear. Because Beca may not have gotten her mom’s rich brown eyes or her beautiful blonde hair, but she got her fire.

 

And that’s how Beca arrived in Georgia a full week before Barden moved in. She spent every day out of the house, exploring local parks and coffee shops until it’s far past dark out. One evening, she had lost track of time while working on a mix. A young, nervous looking employee tapped on her shoulder to tell her that the coffee house she was in needed to close. Beca apologized profusely and tried to remember the way back home-  _ not home _ , she reminded herself,  _ the step-monster’s house. Home is in Manhattan. With Mom. _

But of course, Beca still wasn’t quite used to the Georgia streets and ended up getting wildly lost. When she heard the music, she followed it curiously. She knew it wasn’t Sheila playing the music- there weren’t nearly enough show tunes and crappy attempts at singing along. So, when Beca happens upon a cute little house that looks like something straight out of a movie about a college frat house, she isn’t exactly surprised.

Beca is surprised, however, when she was distracted enough to let someone walk up to her and grab her arm. Before she can react, this person grabs her by the wrists. Every alarm bell in Beca’s head is ringing as she tries to yank away, but then her gaze falls on her attacker. And Beca stops struggling.

Because her ‘attacker’ is a pretty girl. A very pretty girl. She’s just an inch or two taller than Beca with fiery red curls framing a pale, beautiful face and bright blue eyes. Her black tank top clung to her body, and Beca didn’t quite know how to react as the girl pulled her closer.

“Why haven’t I met you before?” she laughs softly. This close, Beca can smell the alcohol on her breath. She feels like she’s getting second-hand fumes.

“Because I just moved here?” Beca shrugs. She pulls her hands away, watching as the girl pouts but backs off.

“Freshman?” she asks. Beca nods, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder. The girl smiles. “Cool, I’m a senior. Which dorm are you in?” Beca makes a face.

“Uh… baker? I don’t move in for another two days, though.” The girl smiles, swaying on her feet, and Beca doesn’t know what to do at this point. “Um, anyway, I gotta go, but I think I’m a little lost. Can you direct me to 187 Millford Way?” Beca points her thumb awkwardly down the street.

“Isn’t that Professor Mitchell’s house?” The girl knits her eyebrows together and Beca’s gay ass can’t help but blush at how cute she looks. 

“Uh, I don’t know. Anyway, um… I’m gonna… go… Um… bye,” Beca shrugs awkwardly. She’ll just get directions from her phone. She needs to get away from this girl and her freakishly beautiful blue eyes.

“Wait!” The girl grabs her arm again. Her eyes are wide and sad. “Why do you have to leave? Come to the party. It’ll be fun.” And Beca hates parties. She detests the way kids use it as an excuse to get blackout drunk and feel each other up. She hates how they’re sweaty and hot and nobody has any concept of personal space. So can someone please tell her why she’s agreeing to come back after she drops off her laptop at home.

 

Warren Mitchell had been surprised when Beca came back, telling him she’d been invited to a party. He was even more surprised when she told him the party was at a house on campus. He halfheartedly reminded her to make good choices as she ran out the door.

Beca hadn’t known how to prepare for this party. She spent way too long standing in front of her mirror, contemplating her outfit. Beca ended up putting on ripped jeans, her black combat boots, a faded purple and black plaid button down, unbuttoned to reveal a low-cut black tank top. Beca redid her eyeliner and added a slouched beanie, hoping to look cute but relaxed. Very college chic.

As Beca made her way back to what she assumed was some type of sorority or fraternity house, she tried to calm her nerves. Maybe that girl wasn’t even flirting with her. Maybe she was just a touchy-feely drunk. Maybe she hugged everyone like that. Maybe she was on drugs. Beca didn’t know anything. As she strolled up the lawn, trying to project more confidence than she had, beca decided she would stay only an hour. If she didn’t find a reason to stay (Beca tried not to consider the redhead a reason to stay) she would leave and cut her losses.

The moment Beca stepped through the door, she saw the redhead dancing by herself in the middle of the living room. She was swaying in time to the beat, seemingly uncaring that nobody seemed to be joining her. As Beca glanced around, she realized this was actually a very small party of a very… odd group of people. There were mostly girls, but a few guys- all of whom seemed like douchebags. There was a lot of singing and harmonizing going on, and- was that a  _ Madonna _ song playing in the background? Beca glanced to where the music was coming from and saw a boy in khakis and a sweater vest arguing with a scrawny boy in jeans and a t-shirt about the music choices. Beca just chuckled. 

“You came!” The girl squealed. Beca’s eyes were drawn back to the dance floor where the redhead was running over. She holds out a hand, offering it to Beca this time instead of taking it. “Dance with me?” She smiles so sweetly and her eyes seem to be sparkling in the light, and Beca swears her heart stops for a moment.

“U-uh,” Beca stammers dumbly for a moment. She clears her throat and squares her shoulders. “Only if you let me change the song. This music sucks.” Chloe sticks her tongue out and smiles. The edges of her eyes crinkle and Beca can feel her cheeks reddening.

“Yeah, whenever we let the Harmonics pick the music, we get a lot of Madonna. Of course… when Aubrey suggests music, it’s usually powerful lady ballads from the 1980’s so…” The redhead trails off, grinning. Beca doesn’t really understand anything the girl just said, and it must show on her face. The redhead- it was startling for Beca to realize that she still didn’t know the girl’s name- just grabbed Beca’s hand and pulled her toward the sound system. Without a word, Beca took the aux cord from the arguing boys and plugged in a playlist of some of her mixes, and some other songs that she was planning on mixing up.

“Let’s do this, red. I’ve got a move or two that I’d like to show you,” Beca smirks, pulling her to the makeshift dance floor. 

 

Beca spent far more than an hour entwined in the redhead- Chloe, she discovered was her name- and her swaying hips. Beca was grateful for her song choice as she watched Chloe move. She had to give it to the girl- she definitely knew how to work those hips and seemed to throw her whole self into the dance moves.

Chloe pulled Beca close, moving her body against Beca’s. She raked a hand through Beca’s hair and whispered words into her skin. She drove up Beca’s pulse like it was child’s play, getting a blush out of her as she pressed her hips into Beca’s resting one hand on Beca’s ass. It’s almost like she knew her very touch would make Beca lose it.

With every beat of the music, every note, Beca could feel herself falling deeper for this girl. She was dancing, and with every sway of Chloe’s hips, every hand skimming over Beca’s arm and grip on her hip, Beca finds herself losing it. Most people had left by this point, and Beca could feel the glare of a stern looking blonde from an armchair.

“I don’t… think your friend likes me,” Beca pants. Her heart was racing with the way Chloe was moving against her, holding her close.

“Aubrey’s a good girl, really,” Chloe chuckles sleepily. It was now closer to sunrise than it was to when Beca had left her house. But Beca couldn’t seem to pull herself away from Chloe. “Just a little protective. I don’t think her parents ever really took her out of the shrinkwrap.”

“I don’t… know what that means,” Beca admits. The music slows, takes on a definitively country feel. Beca knew this song. It was one of the only country songs she listened to. And Chloe started singing along. Of course she started to sing along, because she’s Chloe and she’s sleepy and she’s drunk.

_ “You got the soul and you know how to use it. Put your hand on my hip, ‘cause you know that I’ll lose it…” _ Chloe trails off, mumbling nonsensical words in tune with the lyrics and Beca picks up the song.

_ “Falling in love to the beat of the music. Oh, oh, why wouldn’t I stay? Oh, oh and let that plane fly away, hey, hey, hey, ‘cause you got the soul and you know how to use it.” _ Chloe joins in now, harmonizing with Beca. And Beca loves the sound of her voice. The more she sings, the more Beca falls for the redhead. 

But when the song stops, a tall boy with brown hair and dark eyes comes in to whisk her away. Chloe doesn’t even have a chance to say anything to Beca as he starts talking to her insistently. Beca wants to follow him and hit him. How  _ dare _ he grab Chloe and yank her around like a piece of property? But then, someone’s grabbing  _ her _ hand.

“Listen to me, you hobbit,” a girl snarls. And Beca realizes it’s the blonde who’s been glaring at her all night. Aubrey. “Chloe has a boyfriend. They had a fight before this party tonight, but I won’t let a drunken mistake mess everything up for her. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll pretend this never happened. If we ever see you on campus, I expect you to act like you’ve never met her. Complete amnesia, understand?” Beca wanted to sneer, tell this blonde bitch where to shove her suggestions but there’s a fire in her eyes and a certain steel to her tone that reminds Beca of a drill sergeant. It makes her want to obey. It sends a little stab of fear through her.

“E-excuse me?” Beca manages to stammer.

“This didn’t happen. Chloe never met you. You were just a… a distraction. Tom is getting ready to propose, so I need you to disappear. Don’t make me remind you,” she orders, poking Beca once in the chest. Beca stumbles backward, feeling very much like an awkward high school freshman rather than a slightly less awkward college freshman. Without another word, Beca grabs her phone and starts her trek back home.

She’s halfway home, desperately trying to forget the sound of Chloe’s voice crooning to her as they spun in slow, lazy circles.

_ “Falling in love to the beat of the music. We’re falling in love to the beat of the music,” _ Beca sings to herself. The song is stuck in her head until she moves into Barden the next weekend. She made a mix of it and hid it in a subfolder of her computer. She labelled it-  _ I’m Falling in Love to the Beat of Chloe. _

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this occurs before the movie takes place (so a little canon divergent). Chloe doesn't remember anything the next morning because she was drunk and when she sees Beca at the fair, Aubrey recognizes her which is why she tries to discourage her, but some part of Chloe thinks she's familiar. Beca panics after a stern glare from Aubrey and pretends not to be interested and leave. 
> 
> Also, gentle reminder that I can't take new prompts right now. I am appreciative and humbled that you like my stuff and want to ask for specific things but I'm kind of busy right now. Around vacations, I might be able to take more prompts but right now I'm busy.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Love you awesome nerds!


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